


Our So-Called Life After Hydra (Pt. I of II)

by fandommkopf, GraphiteWrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Absent Characters, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Awesome Sam Wilson, Bar Buddies, Canon Compliant, Canon May Joss This, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Cheeseburgers, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, MCU Spoilers, Male-Female Friendship, Movie Spoilers, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Sassy Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1537319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommkopf/pseuds/fandommkopf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraphiteWrites/pseuds/GraphiteWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as Sam and Natasha kept saying that their meetings were really dates in disguise, neither Steve nor Sharon would dare admit that their latest "meeting" had found them sitting on the front steps of her apartment building. They always had the best intentions, but somewhere along the way these intel-trading meetings had turned into something else. Not a date. No, not that. But they'd been falling towards this for weeks, months even. Not-so-furtive glances and outright longing gazes and fingertips brushing together accidentally on purpose could only go on for so long before something - someone - snapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our So-Called Life After Hydra (Pt. I of II)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Co-credit for this idea goes to far too many late-night MCU conversations with GraphiteWrites, who wrote Part II and helped me get past some serious blocks on Part I. I handle Steve/Sharon, she handles Bucky/Nat. We are obviously very crazy, but happy, fandom freaks.  
> This is definitely MCU, but there are a few little comics references thrown in there. Nothing major, more Easter eggs than anything else. And it's primarily centric to The Winter Soldier, but there's one vague Agents of SHIELD reference too (give a shout if you see it). Post-The Winter Soldier, canon compliant up to the end of it and canon plausible beyond that.  
> Standard disclaimer applies: If you recognize it from real life or Marvel, I don't own it.  
> Part I also posted here: http://fandommkopf.tumblr.com/post/84163842611/our-so-called-life-after-hydra-pt-i-of-ii  
> Part II is posted here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1544555 and also here: http://graphitepusher.tumblr.com/post/84172395622/our-so-called-life-after-hydra-pt-ii

When Steve arrives quietly, hands in his pockets and head down, Natasha is predictably already there - facing the door, back to the wall, tucked into a dark corner at the end of the bar that the lights don't quite reach. She might not be hiding out anymore, not like before, but she's never been careless and isn't about to change now. He settles down in the seat next to her, both mostly silent except to order their drinks. Steve's mind is elsewhere, and Natasha is… well, doing what she does best: assessing. Sam strolls in a few minutes later, casually, never quite the fugitive the rest of them have been. But maybe that's why he fits so well in their ragtag team.

Months of searching out old enemies and old friends and new identities have changed them all, but here they are. The band back together, at least for a few hours. And outside, it isn't just the three of them. Fury is still at large, dead to the world and running down leads on Hydra. Maria is ensconced in Stark Industries, no doubt keeping tabs on everyone from there just as easily as she had from a Triskelion office or a helicarrier bridge. Sharon is a natural fit at the CIA where she continues the same work under a different badge and serves as eyes and ears in the system for all of them. Their old connections have endured, reaching as far as they need to, rebuilding their world from the ground up if necessary.

SHIELD is surviving too, just as much as they are. It's small, isolated, made up of rogue teams still fighting to uphold their crippled agency's name, literally fighting door-to-door as friend and foe try to lay claim to each base across the world. It isn't the same as before - that's impossible now. But still alive even so, miraculously. Hydra isn't the only one with deep roots, ingrained resilience, and a knack for resurrection. And the war isn't over, but the first battle, the battle just to exist, is turning in their favor and on the way to being won. SHIELD will be back someday, in one form or another. They've all given the agency too much - literal blood, sweat, tears, and worse - and owe it too much besides, to let it fade away into disgrace.

It's not long until they're the only ones left in the bar, as they usually have been each time they've reunited here since their respective self-imposed exiles. They talk shop - Natasha's latest newly-developed false identity, potential sightings of the Winter Soldier who they all now call Bucky or Barnes, intermittent and typically cryptic news from Fury, secrets from behind the closed doors of Stark Tower and Langley. They're never too specific, just in case, but Natasha's vouched for the place and its relative security. At the very least, it isn't bugged, which is more than they can say for a lot of the otherwise decent places they've frequented in the past year.

They talk about themselves too, stupid unimportant and almost normal details of their crazy lives. It's a short list of topics, at least compared to the rest of their antics. But it's nice, pretending for a bit that they're normal people with normal concerns. As their latest run of teasing Sam about ornithology tapers off, Nat turns to Steve with a dangerous smirk on her face. She's clearly been saving this all evening since he walked in and sat down next to her without much more than a murmured greeting.

"So. How's Sharon?"

Steve's heart jumps into his throat for a moment, but he's not sure if it's from fear of where this conversation is headed or just the thrill of Sharon running through his mind.

* * *

It had started with a cup of coffee, ironically, something neither of them suggested out loud and which both of them tried not to think too much about. But all the same, after they had arranged to meet at their old apartment building - the only mutual ground still standing - they found themselves at the cafe around the corner. He passed on Fury's message, kind of, and they started meeting at the empty grave after that, much more macabre but a lot safer too.

Sometimes with Sam in tow, he had met her at the National Mall before her early morning jog a few times, something else they didn't think too much about, but which Sam had found far too amusing. He had stood by, albeit a little awkwardly, while she had done her warm up stretches. Sam had found that amusing too. Sharon seemed to like Sam, and it wasn't long before he started to stick around and run laps with her after Steve had left.  Steve wasn't so sure sometimes how much _he_ liked Sam, not in moments like those while he walked away, frowning, and could only listen as the two talked casually and laughed easily in a way his work with Sharon never seemed to allow.  But he _was_ sure the former SHIELD agent and the former pararescue jumper were already well on their way to becoming another duo in the strange team they'd all found themselves on.

Natasha kept up her old tricks - "You talk to the nurse lately?" - and Sam had joined in, and more and more Steve had tried, _wanted_ , to act on their advice. But Sharon, mysteriously, kept a notable distance between them - emotionally and physically, stopping more than a few personal conversations and near-kisses. Eventually, inevitably, he had connected the name "Carter" with hers, and they had both taken some much-needed time to come to terms with the revelation. But on the other side of it, they had been okay. Had been okay together.

And after a while, their meetings continued and took on a life of their own. A camera at the Smithsonian picked up images of a man remarkably similar to Bucky, and she offered to go in with him. A trip to the Captain America exhibit under the joined powers of her name and his face had turned up a lead - but also turned into a guided tour they couldn't kindly refuse by a very enthusiastic elderly security guard. And it was certainly awkward at moments, but also surprisingly nice, the two of them strolling through the museum wings together. Like it was completely normal.

Her work had taken her to New York for a few weeks and after he'd come when she called, they'd walked through Central Park on a free evening. They'd started out discussing the Winter Soldier's whereabouts, as usual, but the conversation had drifted. Talking about Bucky led to Steve talking about his childhood in Brooklyn, and Sharon had hesitantly talked about her own childhood in and out of Washington and Richmond, and none of it hurt as much as they might have expected.  When they'd returned to DC and run into each other visiting Peggy, blessedly on one of her good days, she had taken them both aside separately afterwards with a knowing smile - despite their protests - and given as much blessing as she could offer.

And through it all, the realization crept up that Steve had wanted Sharon in some way all along, back when she was Kate the nurse across the hall, and then too when she was Agent 13 of SHIELD, and still when she was just Sharon. And that even when she was Sharon Carter, nothing had changed.

And where it had finally led up to three nights ago, well…

As much as Sam and Natasha kept saying that their meetings were really dates in disguise, "so give in already," neither Steve nor Sharon would dare admit that their latest "meeting" had found them sitting on the front steps of her apartment building. Even more so that he showed up with cheeseburgers from that hole-in-the-wall place she had told him about, something her smile said she loved him for, even if she couldn't offer the words.

They always had the best intentions, but somewhere along the way these intel-trading meetings had turned into something else. Not a date. No, not that. But even when they started out talking intel, which sometimes they didn't, they always ended up talking about anything and everything else instead. And when things wound down and the "meeting" came to an end, the conversation always tapered off into an awkward silence. And as they said their goodbyes each time, they were both left with a strange sense of being unfulfilled.

Sharon had tossed the empty bag in the trash can near her building's door several minutes ago, yet they were both still sitting there and as usual, silence had taken over their formerly lively conversation. There was certainly still a hint of awkward, but in the cool evening air and under such informal circumstances, it was a companionable silence too. As Sharon looked out over her neighborhood, face turned half away from him, Steve took the opportunity to look her over.

She was still in the button-down dress shirt she had presumably worn to work and the sleeves were rolled up casually, the still-healing gash on her arm visible even in the soft streetlight. Though there was no question of when and where it had come from - "Triskelion" was still a painful word on everyone's lips - he did wonder _how_ , wondered if she'd ever tell him, wondered if he'd ever be able to look at the mark without feeling the oddly specific wave of resentment towards whoever had made it. Her legs were stretched out in front of her on the steps, and she had traded her usual suit pants for old faded jeans. Once again, just as he had several times since he first sat down next to her, he had to suppress the desire to reach out and touch the worn fabric. Would he be able to feel the heat of her skin through it, feel her skin itself through the holes dotted along the knee? Would her skin be as soft as it looked? Would her skin taste--?

He caught himself staring, and glancing back at her face he realized she had caught him too. Even if she didn't know with certainty where his treacherous imagination had been leading him, she could probably guess. And maybe she had, he thought, as he noted her gaze running over him as well, saw a glimpse of the same burning curiosity he felt reflected back from her eyes. They had been looking at each other a little too much lately for the friends they had become, or not looking at each other enough. It never seemed to be enough. And the trouble was they _were_ friends, but they were reminding themselves of that a little too often, trying a little too hard to convince themselves and everyone else that was all.

Steve began to speak, but he thought better of it and closed his mouth tight instead, standing suddenly. His movement shook Sharon out of her own reverie - what he would have given to be able to read her mind just then - and when he extended a hand, she took it and allowed him to easily pull her upright. As simple as it was, the feel of her hand in his, skin against skin finally and all too rarely, was incredible. And she was standing so close too, gaze boring straight into his, lips parted slightly and her breath audibly moving between them. Did her intake of breath sound a little hitched, the outtake sound a little heavier than usual? As his eyes fell to her lips, she pursued them faintly before the tip of her tongue flicked out to wet them. Subconsciously? Intentionally? He didn't really care. It was still tempting.

They'd been falling towards this for weeks, months even probably. Not-so-furtive glances and outright longing gazes and fingertips brushing together accidentally on purpose could only go on for so long before something - _someone_ \- snapped.

"I guess I'd better go," he said finally, not making much attempt to disguise his regret - or his longing.

She ducked her head, clearing her throat before looking back up. She seemed to be standing farther away suddenly too, and he almost frowned. How had she managed that?

"Yeah, it's late, so…" She was looking at him again, looking into him, standing too close and too far away.

But then she was closer, leaning in, pressed against his chest as her arms wrapped around his ribs in a hug that anyone would see as friendly but he knew felt anything but. Because as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders in return, it still wasn't close enough. Because she was the perfect fit against him in every way. Because her lips were on his cheek. It was brief, and she was moving away and out of his arms before he fully realized what was happening, but the burn on his skin and in his stomach remained after she had stepped back.

"Thanks for the cheeseburger," she said, the genuine words not quite masking the tightness in her voice, and smiling casually in a way that still seemed brittle. For a super spy, she was surprisingly bad at keeping up any pretense around him lately. Or maybe he'd just become that good at reading her, the way he knew she must be able to read him too.

Still a little dazed, he spoke the first words that came to mind before he could more cautiously think them over. "If I'd known you were that crazy about them, I would have brought you one a lot sooner."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment he considered apologizing and taking back the rash words. But her tight smile softened genuinely as she laughed, drawing out a laugh from him too even as he shook his head, and it almost relieved the tension. _Almost_.

"Sure. You're welcome," he said more seriously, smiling, though his own face felt just as close to cracking as hers had looked. He walked down the steps before something stupid could happen, and on the sidewalk he stopped just long enough to turn back and give a little wave. "I'll see ya."

She raised her hand in return, her smile a little softer but her eyes a little sadder as he climbed on his motorcycle and started up the engine.

The sound of his bike rumbling through the dimly-lit, quiet neighborhood lined with apartment buildings not much older than he was… it was too reminiscent of the neighborhood and building they used to share, of the times he would pull in downstairs and hope to have a chance meeting with her in the hall. Of the other times he'd imagine what it would be like to have a life where he was just Steve Rogers and she was just… well, not Kate the nurse, as it turned out. But normal, both of them. Where they could be normal together. Where they _still_ could…

The motorcycle engine rumbled for a few uncertain moments as he sat there, frowning and unmoving, before he shut it off again. He looked back up at her, and she was still rooted in the same spot on her front steps, arms crossed and watching him.

"Sharon?" he called out, not sure what he wanted to say really.

"Steve?" she answered. Her breath was still heavy, her voice still rough and strained and needy, and if there had been any doubt left in his mind that erased it.

He swung his leg over the motorcycle and climbed off, walking with quick determined steps back up to her door, back up to her. She uncrossed her arms and opened her mouth to speak, but she was still silent when he reached her, leaned in, and lowered his own mouth to hers.

It was soft and gentle and patient, much more patient than either of them felt inside, but it was wonderful. The feel of her lips under his, her body pressed against his this way, was better than he had imagined, and he had imagined quite a lot since meeting her for the first time - and second time, and third. Neither of them moved, content to adjust to the new sensation. But then her hands found their way back into his, their fingers lacing together naturally.

After a few moments that definitely weren't long enough, he leaned away, savoring every slow second of their lips separating before daring to open his eyes and look at her. Hers were still closed, lips still parted, and it was all too tempting to simply descend on her again and kiss her the way he really wanted to. But he needed her reaction first, needed to know that she really did want this as much as he did. When her eyes fluttered open, he saw his answer. Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, she tugged her hands free from his, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him willingly back down to her.

They moved together brilliantly, his mouth meeting hers kiss for kiss, each one more pleasant than the last. He could still feel the emptiness their all-too-brief hug had left in his arms, so he pulled her back into them, holding her tightly. Her body flush against his was consuming, and he knew she felt it too. As his fingers pressed into the curve of her waist her hands clenched around his collar and she murmured appreciatively against his mouth. He wanted to touch every inch of her, slowly, feeling every detail of her body. This wasn't enough. But it was a start.

Both reaching out for something to steady them, and all the while needing to be closer to each other, slowly he backed her against the door as much as she pulled him along with her. A small sharp breath left her and forced their lips apart as she hit the hard surface, but she simply drew in another before leaning up to kiss him again. As she ran her hands leisurely down his chest and beneath his open jacket, seeming to enjoy the way his muscles tightened under her touch, he pulled his own hands from her waist - feeling the brief downward turn of her lips and hearing the disappointed whimper she gave - and cupped each side of her face tenderly. He allowed himself the luxury of touching her properly, skin against skin, thumbs grazing her earlobes and tracing the hinge of her jaw, fingers twining through her hair and pressing into the back of her neck. Her fingers skimmed over the surprisingly thin fabric of his shirt, splayed across his ribs in return. They were subtle, gentle caresses, but they meant everything.

Finally, but still all too soon, their lips broke apart and both took a much-needed breath - not gasping, not desperate, but satisfied. He rested his forehead against hers and let one hand slide down her neck to lay against her collarbone. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest and tried not to think about that, but his thumb traced over the hollow at the base of her throat and her breath hitched and he could hardly think about anything _but_ that. They stood together in silence for several moments, breathing in and out in sync with each other.

"I guess I'd better go," he said again, a wry smile on his lips this time.

She tried - and failed - to hold back an amused smile as she played along. "Yeah, it's late."

He leaned away slightly, already missing her face so close to hers, though it was worth it to get to look into her eyes again and see her looking back with all the same emotions he was feeling. As he slid one hand and then the other down to her shoulders, fingers running along her neck, her exhale turned into a quiet hum and her eyes drifted closed again for a moment. But when they fluttered open they were still trained on him. She had been watching him for so long, one way or another, he wondered if she knew how to stop. Not that he wanted her to.

"You won't come up," she said, eyes still attentively on his. It wasn't a question, because they both knew what his answer would be. "So I guess I shouldn't bother asking."

He glanced up at the building's windows, thinking about it for a moment. There was resignation in her voice, almost disappointment, and not all that surprisingly he felt the same way himself. But they both knew it was for the best.

"You're right," he agreed softly. But he leaned back in and pressed another small kiss to her lips, both an apology and a promise.

"Don't think I'll let you off easy though," she warned, the supposed threat not meaning much laced as it was with a satisfied sigh.

"No, no you won't," he guessed, almost laughing. "And you shouldn't." He slid his hands down her arms, tracing over her exposed scar briefly on the descent, and took her hands in his. He ran his thumbs across her knuckles, studying them carefully before looking back to her. "I want to do this right." There was still a smile on his face, but his words were earnest. Her eyes lit up at the idea. "Just…" He leaned closer conspiratorially, voice barely above a whisper and his smile and eyes holding a teasing spark again. "No cheeseburgers."

She bit back a laugh, her soft smile curving into the knowing smirk he'd already grown to love. "We'll see."

Their lips met again, once, twice, but only briefly each time, not willing to risk losing themselves. Yet. And then he was walking back down her steps and getting back on his bike, which roared back to life. He waited until she was in the open doorway before giving her a wave and riding away, a little uncomfortable and slightly frustrated but also more content somehow than he'd been in too long.

* * *

"Well?" Natasha's voice prompts him back to the present. She has an eyebrow raised suggestively, already guessing at the answer to her questions.

Steve casts a careful, sidelong glance at Sam who's smirking too, with only a bit less edge than Natasha's.

"Close encounters of the sexy kind," Sam says knowingly.

Steve and Sharon's tempestuous and experimental pseudo-romance is the worst kept secret in their little gang, and neither are allowed to forget it.

Steve can feel the heat rising on his face, and while he's not going to blush, he's glad all the same that the bar is dark if only to help hide both his annoyance and what he knows must be a contradictory lovesick grin.

"She's nice," he says finally, masking his thoughts and staring Natasha down pointedly. She offers a smug smile and turns back to her drink, her point made.

Sam claps him on the shoulder, smiling too. "I'll bet she is."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So I'm not sure how this turned out. I have a hard time writing them first getting together; it's usually easier to just jump in mid-relationship. And I love the idea this started with, but my headcanons for where the Steve/Sharon relationship is going in the MCU are so all over the place right now, and real canon is so vague, it's hard for me to write anything too specific. Because in addition to this scenario, I have about a million others that are all different but I also like, so it's hard committing to any one of them. I guess they'll all be plausible with MCU canon but AU from each other?
> 
> And the "enthusiastic elderly security guard" is totally the Stan Lee cameo.


End file.
